Empire
by Liduen Kvaedhi
Summary: My version of Empire. The plot thickens as we head for the exciting conclusion of the Inheritance Trilogy. Chapter 4 posted R&R!
1. Do Not Fail

Title: Empire: Conclusion of the Inheritance Trilogy (my version)

Author: Liduen Kvaedhí

Rated: K+ for right now for violence. Ratings subject to change.

Summary: "The board is set, the pieces are moving." –Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings

My version of Book 3. The plot thickens as we approach the conclusion of the Inheritance trilogy. Eragon and Roran are determined to rescue Katrina and avenge Garrow's death. The Varden are plotting against the Empire once more. The elves have devised a plan to steal the last dragon egg and discover its gender. But Galbatorix has finally set in motion the plan that may destroy them all. Please R&R.

-

Do Not Fail

-

The ruby-encrusted doors swung inward at the slightest touch, silent on well-oiled hinges. The throne room was large, almost frighteningly so, and so dark that the corners of the room escaped all attempts to be lit. Columns of shiny obsidian lined the walls, reflecting the light of the torches that hung from them in silver brackets.

Murtagh's footsteps echoed off the vaulted ceiling, as did the sound of Thorn's talons clicking on the polished floor. The two of them silently made their way to the end of the room.

The throne was empty for the moment. Murtagh took in the intricate detail with which the chair had been carved. A dragon's head curled from either side, framing the back, which depicted a gory battle between two dragons and their Riders. One was vaguely recognizable as Vrael, the fallen leader of the Riders. The other, Murtagh assumed, was Galbatorix. The throne's arms resembled those of a dragon as well, each ending in a talon wrapped around a ruby orb.

There was a rustled of movement, and a real dragon, enormous in its age, lifted its head over the back of the throne, inspecting Thorn and Murtagh with cold intelligence. Shruikan bared his teeth in a dragon grin. _You are well? _He asked them softly. Murtagh bowed and nodded. _And how fares the king?_

A puff of smoke from Shruikan's nostrils engulfed Murtagh. _He is well enough. Word has reached his ears of Eragon's whereabouts. _A sad expression came across the dragon's face, vanishing quickly. _He is intent on destroying him, but if Eragon dies, his dragon will not wish to live, either. I know the pain of losing a rider. It is like losing a piece of yourself. _

Murtagh examined the floor, feeling Shruikan's iron gaze burning into his skull. _I do not wish to kill my own brother, _he said finally. _But I cannot avoid it short of killing myself. _

Shruikan laid his head back on the floor, partially closing his bony eyelids. _That is not an option. Thorn cannot be expected to endure that kind of torture. Nor is it an option to kill the Dragons' only hope of returning to Alagaësia. _The dragon abruptly stopped speaking as a tall, narrow door behind the throne swung open. Galbatorix entered the room, crossing to his throne in long, graceful strides. Seating himself in the black chair, he turned his attention to Murtagh and Thorn. "I have another mission for you," he said quietly, "and this time I trust you will not fail me."

Murtagh bowed low. "What is it you wish, master?"

-

Roran forced himself to swallow and looked intently at the pattern of the scales on Saphira's neck as her wings caught an updraft and she soared higher into the air. Even with the buckles around his legs and the molded saddle holding him steady, he was terrified of falling off the dragon's back.

This was the second day since the three travelers had left Surda. Helgrind had come into view only an hour ago, a dark blot against the clear blue sky. Now it stood against the rigid orange of the sunset, almost appearing to be on fire as the brilliant colors reflected off the flecks of obsidian buried in the dull black rock. Saphira hissed at the tooth-like projection, baring her teeth in anger. _Murderers, _she thought angrily, projecting it so that Roran could hear. The venom in her voice frightened him a little.

_Saphira, do you see anything? _Eragon looked over his cousin's shoulder and winked. Saphira caught his eye and returned the gesture. _There's a narrow belt of trees a little to the east. It will be far enough from towns and from Helgrind that a fire would not be noticed. _Eragon patted her scaly haunch.

Roran bit back a scream as the dragon suddenly folded her blue wings and plummeted headfirst toward the ground. Air rushed past his face and his stomach lurched as he watched the earth grow at an alarming rate. Just when he thought she would crash into the ground, her wings snapped open once more, and she glided lightly to a stop in the knee-high grasses. Eragon jumped down and helped Roran undo the buckles that held his legs secure to the saddle. Sliding down Saphira's side, Roran hit the ground and sank to his knees, his legs shaking too badly to support his weight.

_I must hunt. I will return shortly. Stay hidden in the trees. _With a nod from Eragon, the dragon lunged back into the air, flying low over the plains in search of a meal. The Rider watched her go before turning to his cousin. "Not bad for your second day of flying," he chuckled, dragging Roran to his feet. The older boy glowered at him before stalking off toward the tree belt, muttering something about eggheads.

Saphira returned almost an hour later, bearing the limp carcass of a hart. Landing only a few feet from their campsite, she promptly lay down and tore into her meal, growling happily. Eragon watched her eat with a combination of interest and disgust. Roran flinched as Saphira snapped up the meat, crunching bone between her teeth. She cocked her head. _Would you like meat? _She asked Roran, bobbing her head toward the carcass.

Roran looked to Eragon, who shrugged and bit into an apple. Roran approached the dragon slowly, pulling his hunting knife from its sheath. The dragon eyed him carefully as he cut a small chunk of meat from the deer's haunch and carried it back to the fire.

Over the next twenty minutes, Roran carefully prepared his meal. Cutting an apple into cubes, he threw it into the pot with some water and a pinch of salt from the pouch Eragon procured for him. He added in some vegetables and an odd fruit that looked like a fuzzy purple potato, and then carefully cubed and added the meat, setting the pot over the fire to cook.

Within twenty minutes the makeshift stew was wafting its aroma throughout the entire glade. Roran heard his stomach grumble as he poked the meat and found it to be cooked through and juicy. Removing the pot, he offered it to Eragon, who shook his head, and, shrugging, dove into the meal.

-

Murtagh checked the last buckle on Thorn's armor and then placed his own helm on his head. Galbatorix was waiting outside the armory when dragon and Rider exited. Murtagh bowed low to the King, casting an eye at Shruikan, who winked at him, bony eyelid clicking. "You know your assignment?" Galbatorix questioned, raising his eyebrow. Murtagh nodded. "I do."

"Go then, and make sure you do not fail." He turned and swept away, leaving Shruikan behind. As the enormous black dragon turned to follow him, he left Murtagh with a parting thought. _Remember what I told you, young one, and have faith. _Murtagh patted Thorn's neck. _Thank you, _he whispered, as Shruikan's tail whipped around the corner.


	2. Battle At Helgrind

A/n: I got a couple of questions regarding Shruikan's behavior in Chapter 1, so I will attempt to answer them here. First of all, as for Shruikan's gender, I'm not absolutely certain it said anything about Galbatorix' dragon's gender. I assumed, for various reasons that Shruikan was female, but if you do find an instance in the book where it states a gender, it would be much appreciated if you'd let me know.

Okay, as to her rebellious behavior, I recall in the books that Galbatorix stole her from another rider, killing said rider in the process. He forced Shruikan to serve him. Therefore, I imagine while she maintains her duty to Galbatorix, she also has a rebellious side that mourns for her true Rider. As well, she feels she has a duty to saving her race, and so does not wish Eragon to die, lest Saphira lose the will to live. Get my drift?

Any questions regarding any part of the story are most welcome. I will try to answer them as best I can. Thanks to any and all reviewers. Perhaps in the future I will be able to thank you more personally.

-

Battle At Helgrind

-

There was no sun this day. A heavy blanket of thunderheads obscured the sky, and Saphira was forced to fly beneath them to avoid the lightning jumping between the gray masses. Roran was still uncomfortable with being so high, but his anger suppressed all else, save his thirst for vengeance. He touched the hammer and the dagger at his belt so ensure they were still with him, and then focused on the growing blot on the horizon that was Helgrind.

The three pyres of black stone stabbed angrily at the clouds, and, as if they had rent great holes in them, rain started to fall in thick sheets. Eragon blinked water out of his eyes and bent low over Saphira's neck. _Let us rid the world of these filth. _Saphira growled, rumbling deep in her belly. A small jet of flame shot from her nostrils.

Eragon drew his sword as Saphira touched down on the silt that covered Helgrind's highest peak. After having Zar'roc for so long, the blade he held now felt weak and awkward in his hand. As Roran slid from the dragon's back Eragon surveyed the surrounding area, searching for signs of the inhabitants of this forsaken mountain.

A slight whistle of air rushing over enormous wings was all the warning they had. Saphira turned just in time to behold a lethrblaka dive over her head, barely missing her with its powerful talons. The Ra'zac upon the creature's back gave a horrifying high-pitched squeal, brandishing its sword at dragon and Rider. As the giant bird-thing wheeled and came for them again, Saphira spread her wings and roared, sending a jet of flame directly into its face.

With a screech the Ra'zac abandoned its parent, leaping to the ground and running for Roran, sword raised. _I'll get that, _he told Saphira, _finish off the lethrblaka. _Leaping out of the saddle he hit the ground and ran after the retreating black figure.

Lightning threw the shadowed crevices in the rock into sharp relief as Eragon slowly gained on his quarry, leaping over boulders and skirting around small rock formations. With a yell he brought his sword crashing down…

A sharp pain in his shoulder brought Eragon to a halt, and he yelled as the second lethrblaka lifted him off the ground, its beak buried in the soft tissue of his shoulder. His sword clattered to the rocks below as his hand went limp. Thinking quickly, Eragon yanked his hunting knife free of its scabbard and, twisting wildly in the beast's grip, plunged it into one bulbous black eye.

The cry that issued from the creature's throat was otherworldly. Eragon felt his arm sink into the socket up to his elbow. Blue-purple blood gushed over his arm, spilling onto the rocks below. The beast released its grip on Eragon and he fell fifteen feet onto the rocks, catching himself on his hands. "Waíse heill," he muttered, and the torn tissue in his shoulder knit quickly back together, leaving his shoulder flawless, save the blood-ringed tear in his shirt. Then he looked up at the beast that had dropped him.

It was like slow motion. The creature's wings folded and it dropped like a rock, screeching the whole way. Silence immediately ensued as it hit the rocks, convulsing on the ground. With a roar Saphira grabbed the dying beast in her talons and tore out its throat before dropping it over the side of the mountain.

_One down, _thought Eragon as he picked himself up and retrieved his sword and his knife, which he jammed back into its scabbard. Wielding the sword, he raced toward the place he'd seen the Ra'zac disappear.

Roran skidded around a turn, hoping to take the enemy by surprise. Suddenly a heavy weight fell on his shoulders and with a cry he toppled to the ground. Fortunately, his momentum rolled him over, and the Ra'zac that had been about to deliver a peck to his throat was tossed from him. Regaining his feet quickly, he rushed the beast, swinging his hammer. The Ra'zac caught his wrist in mid-swing, and it laughed, a frightening raspy noise that grated Roran's eardrums.

"Nice try," it hissed gleefully into his ear, "but you don't ssstand a chance." It laughed again, and grabbed Roran by the throat, lifting him off the ground. As it turned its face toward his, its hood fell back, revealing the hideous beak and the bulbous, glittering eyes. The ra'zac's purple tongue flicked at the air, tasting Roran's fear as his airway was cut off. The farmer's nails scrabbled at the disgusting shell-like hand, to no avail. Spots danced in front of Roran's vision.

Suddenly, the pressure loosened. Roran gasped for breath, coughing as air rushed into his lungs. He watched as the beast's head slid slowly off its severed neck, falling to the ground. The same blood that covered Eragon now leaked from the base of the Ra'zac's neck. For a moment, the decapitated body simply stood still, then wavered and fell limply to the ground, splashing more blood across the already slippery rocks.

"Are you okay?" Eragon asked, leaning over Roran, who was crouching on his hands and knees, catching his breath. Roran nodded and grabbed his hammer. "Where is the other one?" he asked. Eragon shook his head. "I don't know." The two of them scanned the sky, but saw no sign of Saphira or the other lethrblaka. Carefully, Eragon crossed to the edge of the cliff and looked over the edge at the broken body of the lethrblaka thousands of feet below. Even from this height he could see the spatter of blood around the impact point of the body. It made him feel sick.

Eragon turned to look at his cousin and saw that he was staring into the sky. Looking up, Eragon gasped in a combination of horror and awe.

An epic battle was taking place twenty feet above their heads. Saphira wheeled around as the lethrblaka grabbed her tail. A gout of flame shot out of the dragon's mouth, adding to the already severely burnt torso of the opposition. The beast screeched and released its hold, going instead for the dragon's throat. A complicated dive-roll saved Saphira, and she set upon the lethrblaka with a roar, tearing at it with her talons. With a squawk it took hold of one of her wings. Eragon flinched as pain exploded through his arm, rebounding over their mental link. Above him, Saphira grabbed the beast by the neck, shaking its head roughly. Her back legs coiled beneath her and she kicked hard, tearing the beast's stomach wide open. Eragon shouted and tried to dive away from the blood and viscera raining down, but he didn't move fast enough. A moment later he was covered from head to foot in the horrible contents of the lethrblaka's stomach.

Shaking the beast one last time, Saphira dove, folding her wings. The dying creature released its grip just in time to fall to its death, joining its mate.

Saphira landed a few feet from Eragon, wrinkling her nose. _You stink. _He laughed and hugged her, and she brought her good wing forward in a dragon hug. Backing away, he moved to her injured wing and hissed in sympathy. The membrane was badly torn from the lethrblaka's sharp beak, and one of the thin fingers of her wing had been broken. Touching the break gently, Eragon muttered a few words, and watched, elated as the spell did its work and the bone mended. He healed her torn membrane, and stepped back. The wing was good as new.

Saphira laughed, a rumble deep in her throat. _Now all you need is a bath. _Eragon punched her shoulder and looked around at Roran. Only Roran wasn't there.

"Damn it!" Eragon shouted. "He must have gone inside already." Gesturing to Saphira, he raced for the large door that opened into the tallest pyre of Helgrind, praying that the other Ra'zac was out picking potpourri.

To Be Continued…

Okay, how was that for a battle? Actually I'm not completely happy with it, but it'll do until I have time to rewrite. I would greatly appreciate any comments you may have, and I love constructive criticism. The key word being "constructive", just to be clear. Chapter 3 should be up shortly. Ooh, and wish me luck, our marching band is playing in the Western Welcome Week parade on Saturday, August 19,2006! The winners get money for the band and bragging rights for the next year! Thanks for reading!

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass! –Liduen Kvaedhí


	3. Katrina

A/n: From now on, if anyone has any discrepancies or questions over the content of my stories, they will be answered personally in an author's note. I will also take the time to answer those people that took the time to write a good review. That's all I have to say at the moment. Enjoy Chapter 3!

-

Katrina

-

The dark corridors were cramped and littered with bones and skulls and other nasty things Eragon didn't want to think about. He ran carefully, keeping his left hand on the wall, following the footprints in the slime that covered everything. Roran was fast, but Eragon was much faster, and soon he caught his cousin standing in front of a barred door, hammer raised above his head. Even in the dark, Eragon could see that the bolt was far too heavy for the hammer to do anything but make it impossible to unlock. Grabbing Roran's arms, he forced them down. "Let me," he whispered. Roran finally nodded and stepped aside. Leaning lightly on the door, Eragon let forth a tendril of magic, pushing lightly on the locking mechanism. It wouldn't budge. He pushed harder, but the blasted thing wouldn't move. Finally, growing angry, he took a few steps back and held out his hand. Closing his eyes, he ran quickly through his list of ancient words, choosing a few and muttering them under his breath. With a crack and a groan, the door's hinges gave way, and the heavy iron piece toppled over, raising a cloud of dust so thick it was like walking through a thundercloud.

When the dust cleared, Eragon peered into the room. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from a hairline crack in the wall. And sitting in the corner, arms wrenched over her head and chained to the wall, was Katrina.

Roran pushed past Eragon and fell to his knees beside Katrina, cradling her limp form. "Is she alive?" the Rider asked tentatively. Roran held his fingers against her neck for a moment, and then nodded. "But barely. We have to get her out of here. Can Saphira fly the three of us?"

"Of course. Besides, in her current state I'm not sure Katrina counts as a whole person." He gestured toward the girl, and Roran noted the point he was trying to make.

Katrina was in a horrible state. She was thin as a rail, and bruises, sores, and cuts crisscrossed her once flawless skin. Deep shadows had formed under her eyes and she was pallid and fragile-looking. Bending down, Eragon opened the shackles, and allowed Roran to lift Katrina gently after checking for broken bones. "Let's get out of here. There is still one Ra'zac lurking about."

Saphira was waiting for them when they exited the tunnels. Eragon noticed something beneath her talons. She lifted her foot to show him the dead Ra'zac. _He tried to follow you down the tunnels. I hid around the corner and grabbed him. _She laughed.

Eragon smiled. _We can mock them later. Right now, let's get down to the river. Can you fly us all?_ The dragon nodded and helped Eragon push Roran into the saddle and then handed Katrina up to him. Eragon jumped up in front of his cousin and touched one of Saphira's neck spikes. _Let's go, _he said. With a nod, she unfurled her massive wingspan and hurled herself off the side of the mountain. As she flew upward, into the thinning clouds, Eragon looked back one last time at the two dead beasts lying at the mountain's base. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a white fleck on the throat of one of the Lethrblaka.

-

Roran had promptly erected a tent and, after taking Katrina inside, spent the entire evening bathing her numerous wounds. It appeared as if the Ra'zac had tortured her for information on Eragon. The Rider sat worriedly outside, hoping she didn't die for fear of what his cousin would do.

Finally there was movement, and Roran came out of the tent bearing a now-empty pot. He looked drawn and worried. Eragon quickly reached for his bag, rifling through its contents, and selected a few herb pouches he'd received from Angela as a parting gift. "Add these to the water," he said gently, handing the pouches to Roran. "They should help." Roran eyed one pouch carefully, and then nodded his thanks and, after grabbing the second pot of heated water, disappeared back inside the tent.

Eragon sighed and groaned, rubbing his temples. A headache had been forming between them all day, and now it radiated across the mental link he shared with Saphira, causing her to wince. She draped a wing over him, curling around him and blocking the firelight. He smiled and patted her shoulder in thanks.

_Anything I can do to help? _The dragon asked quietly. Eragon shook his head. _I can't use magic to heal her wounds. I tried earlier, but there's something blocking my power. Look. _Bending over a puddle nearby, he concentrated and said the words he'd used so many times to draw water up. It simply remained there, clear and still as ever it had been.

With a sigh Eragon sat back against Saphira's scaled belly, closing his eyes. It had been a long day, and soon he lay curled in a ball by her elbow, head resting on one arm, the other draped lightly across her leg.

He awoke to Roran's face leaning over him. Sitting up, he wiped his face and yawned. "How's Katrina?"

"Eragon, you have to help her. She isn't doing well at all." Roran helped his cousin stand and led him to the tent. Katrina looked just as dead as before, save the slight increase in the rise and fall of her chest. Eragon shook his head to clear his thoughts and knelt beside her. "I'll try," he said softly.

Placing his hands on either side of Katrina's face, Eragon closed his eyes and concentrated hard on locating his power, searching thoroughly through himself. Finally he found it, lurking just out of his reach. He called it, and reluctantly, it came, answering his words.

Katrina gasped as her skin wounds flowed back together, leaving her frame thin, yet flawless. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up as Eragon fell away, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. As Roran held onto Katrina the Rider crawled out of the tent and stood shakily.

He'd barely taken two steps when suddenly the world spun out of focus and he fell to his knees. Just before he hit the ground arms caught him, strong, but too thin to be Roran's. He looked up into Arya's face. Blagden was seated on her shoulder, and the last thing Eragon heard before sliding into unconsciousness was the bird's shriek. _Wyrda. _


	4. Life Force

**A/n**: So I went to see the movie, and I can say I am somewhat disappointed, although the flash of Shruikan at the end was pretty amazingly cool. It wasn't a bad movie, but it barely followed the book. Anyway, this is where Roran and Eragon's stories split again for a while. Don't worry; pretty soon they will be back together.

--

Healing

--

_How did I get here? _

His eyes opened slowly, and he rolled painfully onto his stomach, using his hands and knees to propel him into a standing position. His muscles were tense and cramped from lying on the cold ground, and he yelped as he tried to stretch and several of his muscles protested loudly. Abandoning any attempt to ease the aching in his limbs he turned a slow circle, surveying the landscape around him.

To the east the plain he stood upon continued over the horizon and out of sight. North and west sported mountains taller even than the Beors, with jagged edges that reminded Eragon of fangs, and to the south was a thick forest, the trees he could see gnarled and menacing to look at. Above him, heavy thunderclouds blocked the sky, giving everything a dead, colorless feel.

A light drizzle began to fall and a fierce, cold wind picked up. Eragon shivered and began trudging toward the trees, hoping to find some kind of shelter. His eyes scanned the terrain rapidly, searching for a grove or a hedge of some kind, but as a mist gathered it became hard to see. By the time he has neared the forest's edge the fog formed a solid wall of silver, glinting invitingly at him. Tentatively, he reached forward and touched the mist.

A burst of agony so strong it made him scream shot through Eragon's body, sending him to his knees. Tears stung his eyes and he grimaced, willing the pain to leave his body. Slowly it ebbed, and he looked up at the dense fog, hissing at its innocent appearance. The rain started coming down in sheets as the rider stalked away from the mist toward the mountains.

--

"I can find no wounds, nor detect any poisons in his blood." Arya stood slowly from a crouched position, looking down at Eragon's prone form on the bedroll by her feet. "But if his fever climbs any higher it will cook him from the inside out." She frowned, rubbing her chin.

Roran sat on a stone outside Katrina's tent, one knee bent, the other leg straight out in front of him. One arm was flung across the bent knee, the other lying relaxed on the ground. He watched Arya pacing back and forth and then slowly turned his face toward the tent, listening to Katrina's breath. She was sleeping soundly now; the herbs Eragon had given Roran had soothed her greatly, and now as she slept a hint of a smile was on her lips.

Arya stopped pacing and looked to the stars, admiring their brilliance. She automatically began picking out constellations she'd been taught as a mere child. Eragon stood out starkly against the verdant midnight bowl it sat in, one arm extended to his dragon, the other at his side, holding a sword of great length. As she watched, the stars seemed to flicker and dim, until she could barely pick them out of the moon's gentle glow. At the same moment the Eragon on the bedroll cried out and convulsed against the hard ground.

Roran jumped up from his seat and threw himself next to his cousin, holding him down as the spasms wracked the rider's body. A sickening gurgle came from Eragon's throat, and blood suddenly seeped from one corner of his mouth. Arya knelt beside Roran. "Turn him on his side," she intoned, taking hold of one of Eragon's shoulders and shoving him over. Crimson froth spilled out of Eragon's mouth onto the grass, staining it scarlet. Nearby, Saphira growled and dug her claws into the earth as the pain rebounded to her through the weak mental link she still held with her rider. _Hold on, Eragon, _she thought desperately, sending the thought toward him. Reaching out, she tried to touch his consciousness, to sooth him and ease his pain, but a solid wall of silver mist blocked her from him. It felt unhealthy, and as she touched it a twinge of pain traveled through her, and Eragon's back arched as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.

Finally the seizure slowed and ceased. Sweat covered the rider, and the blanket had been thrown off in a heap. Arya spread it over her charge once more and wiped the sweat off his face and neck with a cool, damp cloth.

_He cannot go on like this. _Saphira bent over Arya and gently licked his brow, reassuring him in the only way she could, since his mind was blocked.

The elf nodded slowly. _I just wish I knew what had caused this. _Suddenly her head snapped up, and she looked back at the stars, searching out a constellation her people called "the Gateway". The stars of the constellation created an image of a door, the supposed door to enlightenment. _That's it! Eragon broke in the door to Katrina's cell. There was a curse on the door._

_But the Ra'zac cannot use magic, _Saphira pointed out, _and the curse would have affected them too every time they opened the door if it were there before them. _

Arya pondered for a moment. _So that means someone powerful would have had to cast the spell so that it would affect all magic-wielders, but not the Ra'zac. _She sat back on her heels and her face darkened. _It was rumored that Galbatorix visited Dras-Leona earlier in the month. It must have been he who cast it. _

Arya stood up swiftly and began bustling about the camp, shoving a few days worth of supplies into Eragon's pack. Tying the pack to Saphira's saddle, she set to work making a litter, using fallen boughs to weave together the structure, and attaching to either end a thin gray rope she had been carrying with her. Roran offered his assistance, looking incredulously at the rope. "That's never going to hold." He held up the twine, which wasn't much thicker than his ring finger, and raised one skeptical eyebrow.

Arya rolled her eyes as she cut several lengths from the rope with her hunting knife. "Do not underestimate this rope," she replied, "it is woven of spider silk, and will neither fray nor unravel." Working quickly, she wrapped Eragon tightly in his blankets and rolled him onto the litter, securing him with lengths of rope over his forehead, his chest, his midsection, and two spans around his legs at the top and bottom. Tightening the knots, she turned to Saphira. _Can you melt the knots? _The dragon nodded and proceeded to breathe a white-hot flame onto the knots until she was sure they would not come apart.

Once Eragon was secured to the litter, Arya stood up and turned to Roran, putting a hand on his shoulder. There are three elves with horses for you and Katrina on their way to this place as we speak. If you will wait for them, they will see you back to the Varden safely." Roran nodded, and Arya climbed into Saphira's saddle. The dragon reared, grasping the thin rope in her front claws and lifting the litter of the ground. Spreading great sapphire wings, she brought them down, shooting into the night.

Roran watched Saphira until she was out of sight, and then turned back toward the tent. Katrina was still asleep, but as Roran touched her face she smiled and wrapped one bony hand around his.

--

At least the rain had stopped. Eragon sat up and looked out from under the rocky cleft in the mountainside. The world was still the same drab color gray, but now everything was sopping wet. Worse, the mist had begun to recede, and though Eragon was glad to see the damned stuff go, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of foreboding at its departure. So, rolling out of the cave, he began his descent to the plains, with the intent of revisiting the fog.

He didn't see the basket-bearing woman until he almost ran into her. "Sorry," he said absently, and then did a double take as he recognized the woman, and the large cat prancing around her feet. "Angela?"

She looked surprised to see him there, but it was Solembum that spoke first. _You shouldn't be here, Dragon Rider, _he said softly, his face a mask of indifference, but his words dripping with foreboding tones.

Eragon shrugged. _I don't know how I got here. Where is here, anyway?_ He jumped as the werecat jumped into his arms, scrutinizing his face carefully.

_You see that mist? That's you, your life force. When that mist is gone, you die, Rider._ The cat paused, looking back at the mist. _There is a heavy curse upon you, Eragon. Getting back will be painful. _

Angela watched the exchange with interest. When Eragon looked at her, she said simply, "he's right. I only come here when I'm working on a truly powerful spell, and even then it is dangerous to travel back to the world of the living. Stay out of the mountains." With that, Angela disappeared over a hill, and Solembum, jumping from Eragon's arms, followed her, bottlebrush tail swaying jauntily as it vanished through the grass.

Eragon started across the prairie, wondering what powerful spell Angela could be working on that would require her to walk between life and death. The mist came slowly into sight, solidifying as before until he couldn't see past it. He reached out, his arm vanishing into the dense silver wall. Immediately the pain was intense, and he cried out as it engulfed all five senses, but he pressed on into the fog, each step increasing the strain on his body. He was screaming so loud it was tearing his throat to ribbons, but he could hear only a muted shriek. _This was a bad idea, _he thought as he pressed on.

--

_I'm going to drop him! _Saphira held the rope tightly as the litter swung wildly, the force of Eragon's spasms sending it on its harrowing dance through the clouds. Arya was laying across the dragon's neck, trying to streamline herself to make Saphira's flight faster. The trees of Du Weldenvarden were in view, but still very distant, and they were running out of time.

_Land behind that hill. I have an idea. _Arya held on tight as Saphira dove for the ground, throwing her hind legs down at the last second and setting the litter on the ground before landing and tucking her wings to her sides. The elf slid from the saddle and grabbed the rope from the litter, cutting it from the ends and restringing it. _Hold these, _she said, climbing back onto Saphira's back. With Saphira's help, she looped the ropes around Saphira's middle, tying them on top so that Eragon was held tight to her belly. Saphira nodded with approval and once Arya was situated she took off again, her wings straining as she streaked through the sky.

**A/n: **Will Arya and Saphira make it? I dunno, you'll have to find out in the next chappie, won't you?


End file.
